


Head Over Heels

by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)



Series: Silk [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyholic/pseuds/justacookieofacumberbatch
Summary: Armie promised to show up at the restaurant where Timmy works, and Timmy waits with bated breath.





	Head Over Heels

Timmy was a wreck. Barely an hour into his shift, and he’d already broken two glasses. This last time he’d broken one had been weeks ago when a dishwasher stacked bar glasses before they were cool and two stuck together. Today, he just had butter fingers.

Okay, jitters.

He probably wouldn’t have to pretend to accidentally spill a drink on Armie’s lap.

Was this really happening? Was Armie really about to walk in and fuck him in the bathroom? Play out a fantasy Timmy had never mentioned to anybody until its subject grabbed his cock and asked him to? He couldn’t believe it even as every nerve in his body anticipated it. Hell, he wouldn’t have even believed that he’d already slept with Armie--twice!--if his ass weren’t still sore. Or if he didn’t have the prominent bite mark on the back of his neck that he could barely cover with his hair down. With his hair pulled into a bun for work? Well, it was hopeless. Maybe he could have been careful to keep his front towards the bartop if it weren’t for the _giant fucking mirror_ behind it.

So yeah, he was flustered. Could anyone blame him? Not that he could mention it to anyone. That would go real well.

_Hey guys, you know the guy who comes in at lunch sometimes? The one you’ve been giving me shit about having a crush on? Yeah, he’s coming in today to fuck my mouth and my asshole, so if someone could cover for me at the bar for, like, twenty minutes, I’d really appreciate it._

That would go over like a lead zeppelin.

So, he did his best to ignore his nerves and do his job and thank his lucky stars that one of the hostesses on shift could make a decent cocktail.

Of course, that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention the moment Armie walked in, near the end of the lunch rush, just as Timmy was about to give up and start his side duties. 

Armie looked even better than usual, though Timmy couldn’t tell why. Maybe his suit was tailored a little closer to death. Maybe his hair had a bit of that wind-tousled look to it that was reminiscent of the way it looked when he woke up Timmy with his tongue on Timmy’s skin, when Timmy had tangled his fingers in it first thing in the morning. Maybe it was the stubble on his cheeks, thicker and longer than usual (though Armie usually had a bit of a shadow by lunch time), which Timmy knew would be pressed between his ass cheeks soon.

Maybe it was just the knowledge that they both had sex on the brain, that they both knew the topography of each other’s naked body, though admittedly Armie had done more exploring than Timmy. He hoped he’d have time to rectify that.

All that certainly didn’t help Timmy’s nerves, nor did the fact that Armie actually brought someone with him, someone dressed just as sharply and almost as handsome.

Timmy almost immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was his boyfriend, especially as Armie effortlessly ignored Timmy while suggesting to his companion that they sit at the bar. Of course, that was stupid. Chances were it was a colleague or client or something, and Timmy could kick himself for the stab of jealousy that nearly bled him out. And the rush of blood to his face.

The glass clinked against the bar top as Timmy set out a dish of olives for Armie and his companion. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He grabbed two bar menus and slid them over. “Can I get you anything to drink while you look over the menu?”

Armie’s companion squinted at the drinks for a moment. “Just a water for me.”

Armie leaned on the bar, tapping his index finger against his temple. _Fucking sexy bastard._ “Head over heels.”

Not so sexy anymore. Seriously? That’s what he was ordering? Not a scotch and soda or something simple. He was making Timmy muddle raspberries and whip egg whites just to spill it. He’d console himself that at least it would stain if it weren’t for the fact that Armie could probably afford to treat that suit like tissue.

Timmy scooped ice into a glass and filled it from the soda gun. “Would you like a water as well, sir?”

Armie cupped his own chin and swiped his thumb over his bottom lip, face thoughtful but with a wicked glint in his eyes. “No thank you.”

As Timmy slid the ice water over to Armie’s companion, he seriously considered swiping it over in Armie’s direction, saving him the trouble of making a complicated drink just to waste it. But, he didn’t. He turned around and dumped raspberries into a glass and grabbed a muddler and beat the shit out of them.

“What’s that on your neck?” Armie asked, making Timmy’s shoulders reach for the sky. “Is that a tattoo?”

“No, sir.” Timmy beat the shit out of the egg whites. “Just a bruise.”

“Looks to me like someone got lai--” Armie’s companion started, cutting off with the clack of his jaw.

As Timmy finished up the cocktail, Armie muttered something to his companion, too quiet to make out the words, and when he turned around their faces were close. Armie’s fingers circled the other guy’s wrist. His other hand gripped the back of his companion’s seat.

Timmy’s hand clenched over the stem of the glass, and he felt a harsh breath expel from his nose, enough to get Armie’s attention for a scant moment, though that certainly wasn’t his intention. The last thing he wanted was for Armie to see the green-eyed monster come out to fight. Because even if this was Armie’s boyfriend, it shouldn’t bother Timmy this much. Sure, he might be bothered at being unwittingly made “the other man,” but he didn’t know. They could be in an open relationship. They could get off on the knowledge that other people wanted them. Though, it was strange that Armie would come to the gala alone if he had a boyfriend. Unless he didn’t come alone. Unless he ditched this guy for Timmy, which admittedly turned him on a little bit. But either way, a one-night stand--or a one-night, one-morning, and one-afternoon stand--shouldn’t make him feel entitled to Armie’s sole attention.

Either way, it made it a lot easier to dump the drink in Armie’s lap. And while Armie’s attention was still centered on the guy he brought in, Timmy got a very satisfying flinch and gasp out of it.

He struggled to keep the flicker of a smile from becoming manifest. “Oh my God, I’m sorry sir.”

Armie jumped from his bar stool so quickly that Timmy could hear the parts of the drink that hadn’t already absorbed into Armie’s pants splash to the floor. He tugged at his shirt where it tucked in, which was currently stained red, and gave Timmy a look that said clearly, _Did you have to spill on the shirt, too?_

“It’s all right.” Armie whipped the cocktail napkin out from underneath his friend’s drink. “I’m sure it happens to the best of us.”

Timmy rushed out from behind the bar. “Let me help you with that.”

Armie huffed, tossing the soiled napkin to the bar top. _What a fucking fantastic actor._ “Fine. Meet me in the restroom.”

Timmy waved over the hostess as Armie marched off. “Hey Esther, watch the bar for me, will you?”

Her brow knit together. “Why?”

“I spilled on a patron. I’m gonna help him clean it.”

“Oh.” Her brows didn’t unravel until she peered past Timmy to see Armie walking towards the restroom. When she did, they lifted to her hairline. “Oh!”

Timmy willed her to just say yes and leave it at that.

“No problem.”

Timmy spun on his heel.

“Just…”

Timmy stopped in his tracks.

“Try not to feel him up too much.”

Timmy groaned and walked away. Could he just crawl in a hole now? One where he couldn’t hear Esther’s snicker?

Thankfully the atmosphere in the bathroom was completely different. The moment Timmy was through the door, Armie was crowding him against it, propping himself on one hand as the other locked the door. Timmy bit his lip, watched as Armie looked him up and down, and struggled not to surge up and kiss him. It wasn’t part of the fantasy. A kiss now would ruin it. Right?

Armie nudged Timmy’s chin with the side of his index finger. “I like it when you call me sir.”

Timmy let his bottom lip escape from between his teeth as he let his chin lift with the movement of Armie’s finger. “Yeah?”

Armie’s answering _Yeah_ was almost inaudible, just a breath around the shape of the word as his fingertips came to rest on one side of Timmy’s neck, the tip of his thumb tracing down Timmy’s Adam’s apple.

Timmy swallowed. He could feel the resistance of Armie’s thumb against the bob of his throat, and it only made him wish for more. It made his mouth open on something akin to a sigh or a huff, a silent moan that he wished Armie would muffle with his hand.

Instead, Armie stroked his lips against Timmy’s, just a moment’s feather-light touch before pulling back, and Timmy’s tongue chased the sensation, sliding across the scant space between his lips before retreating back into his mouth, dragging a slow path over his top canine to the roof of his mouth.

Armie’s returning smile was a slow thing, just the right mix of fondness and mischief before he grabbed Timmy’s hand and shaped it over the bulge in his cold, wet trousers. “You gonna take care of this for me?”

Timmy nodded, corner of his mouth captured between his teeth, tongue wriggling over the inside as his eyes focused on his hand, as he squeezed, as he got a visceral memory of doing just this on Saturday night with milling partygoers just a few feet away.

“Yes, sir.”

Armie stepped back, tugging Timmy along with him until his hips hit the counter with the sink, where he grabbed a handful of paper towels and shoved them into Timmy’s hands. “Get started then.”

Timmy struggled not to let his hands--hell, his whole body--shake as he knelt, as Armie’s groin lifted to eye level, where the bulge was demonstrably larger than when they started. He was not so successful in keeping his breath from coming out shaky. His nerves were going crazy. Sure, he knew with as much certainty as was possible that this fantasy would live up to his own expectations, but what if he messed it up? What if Armie didn’t like it? What if he got bored and decided this was it for them? What if that was always the plan?

God, Armie was like heroin, and despite his weeks and months of fantasizing, he hadn’t been prepared for that. One night, and he was addicted. He didn’t want to find out what the withdrawal would be like. What it would be like to see Armie at least once or twice a week and know. Know exactly what Armie’s hands felt like. What his cock felt like. What his come felt like when the heat of it bloomed inside Timmy’s body. What his voice sounded like in the heat of passion.

How could he stand seeing Armie knowing he wouldn’t have that again?

Armie tugged the tie from Timmy’s hair and threaded his fingers into it, holding Timmy still by the crown, and all Timmy’s thoughts went quiet.

“Stop,” Armie said, and Timmy’s hands dropped to his sides. The paper towels tumbled to the floor. “Open you mouth.”

Timmy did, his tongue covering his bottom teeth and bottom lip, and Armie pulled him in. He didn’t waste time guiding Timmy to the worst areas of the spill. He went straight for the gusto. Timmy could feel the shaft pulse against his tongue. He could taste the tang of champagne and berries and lemon, and he wanted to put it in a blender with Armie’s come and enjoy it as a refreshing beverage.

Instead, he concentrated on licking the fabric, hard enough to chafe his tongue, as if his taste buds could reach through the fabric to taste the skin.

Armie’s free hand cupped the back of Timmy’s skull, fingernails scratching over his scalp. “Fuck, that’s beautiful.”

Timmy groaned. If it was possible to go weak in the knees while kneeling, Timmy did it. The only things keeping him grounded, keeping him from toppling over, were Armie’s hands in his hair. Even taking care not to move his head, the small movements caused by the work of his jaw pulled his hair against Armie’s grip, sent little shocks of pain over his scalp like static electricity.

It gave him goosebumps. It made everything outside their little bubble feel hazy and muted. It didn’t even occur to him that they were still in a public bathroom. As far as he was concerned, they’d been transported to another plane. All that mattered was that Armie was here. Timmy was beautiful. He was worshipping and being worshipped.

Armie pulled Timmy back, leaving him panting, and ran his thumb over Timmy’s bottom lip. “You should see your mouth right now.”

Timmy surged forward despite the grip on his hair to capture the thumb in his mouth. The pain eked past the point of pleasant, but it didn’t much matter to Timmy. Anything to have any part of Armie in any part of Timmy.

All at once, Armie let go of Timmy’s hair and pulled his thumb free, and Timmy found himself whining, nuzzling into Armie’s thigh just to keep from becoming unmoored.

He heard the rasp of a zipper, and then he could smell it. The musk of arousal cutting through the sweet tang of a specialty cocktail. He turned his face, breathing deep as his nose bumped a knuckle, and then his prize was in sight.

He tongued at the base, unwilling as of yet to pull back enough to take Armie fully into his mouth. His hair there was trimmed, long enough to be pleasantly furry without turning into a jungle, the smells of sweat and sex and soap clinging to it like rain to the tip of a leaf.

Armie combed his fingers through Timmy’s hair, tickling his scalp. “Do we need to have a discussion about safe words?”

He imagined Armie intended to slow things down with that question, but Timmy’s mind flooded with images of Armie’s giant hands turning his ass bright red. Ropes and paddles and gags. His wrists held high above his head as Armie teased him. More marks like the teeth at the nape of his neck.

His thighs wrapped around Armie’s calf. He wasn’t humping Armie’s leg like a dog, but it was a close thing.

“Hey.” Armie tapped the center of Timmy’s forehead. “You with me?”

Timmy took a break from licking Armie’s balls long enough to nod, but when he tried to get back to it, Armie pulled him away.

“Words, please.”

Timmy licked his lips. Swallowed. His tongue felt sluggish. “Yes.”

“Good.” Armie tucked a lock of hair behind Timmy’s ear, and Timmy let out a long sigh. “Give me a safe word.”

He nuzzled against Armie’s hand, giving the heel a long lick before replying. “Head over heels.”

A laugh burst through Armie’s nose, and he nodded before threading his fingers back into the hair at Timmy’s crown. “Okay.”

Armie pulled Timmy close and finally—finally—Timmy knew how his velvety glans felt. He knew the thick, salty flavor of his precome. He knew how the shaft weighed down his tongue. He knew how far he could take Armie in until he had to fight his gag reflex, how far until he couldn’t breathe. He knew what it felt like when a particular swirl of the tongue had an effect, made Armie’s cock throb and curve upward.

Time had lost meaning, but it didn’t feel like long before Armie was guiding Timmy’s mouth away and hauling him up to his feet, slotting himself behind and easing Timmy’s belt from its buckle. Flicking open the button. Sliding down the zipper. His hand reaching between the flaps of Timmy’s flies to palm him through his underwear.

This man and mirrors. Timmy would assume that he had an ego on him, that he liked to watch himself work, but he only had eyes for Timmy’s reflection. He watched Timmy’s face as long fingers pressed between his legs and crooked against his perineum. He watched Timmy’s groin as he hooked his thumbs into the sides of Timmy’s underwear and eased them down. Watched Timmy’s cock spring free. Watched Timmy’s fingers dig into the surface of the counter, his hips rock back to seek the velvety softness of Armie’s cock against his cleft.

And then his hands and eyes gained a singular focus, Timmy’s ass. More specifically, his taint and asshole. Armie licked all four of his own fingers at once before sliding them between Timmy’s cheeks, skating the slick tips from testicles to anus, all four tips bumping over his hole before beginning their journey back again. And the look on Armie’s face was incredible, like he’d never seen anything so sexy, like he wanted to eat Timmy for breakfast. Or, more accurately, lunch.

He tugged Timmy’s hips away from the sink, snapping the waistband of Timmy’s boxer briefs against his thighs. “I had hoped you’d be wearing something a little less practical.”

_A little less--_ Oh, he meant the costume.

“I don’t actually--” He stuttered as Armie dropped to his knees, enveloped both of Timmy’s cheeks in his hands and pressed them apart. “It was just a costume. I don’t own any.”

Armie licked a long stripe up Timmy’s cleft, not just the tip, not just a tease. He licked Timmy like a dripping ice cream cone.

“I’ll send you some.” He fished his phone from his pocket and clunked it to the counter. “Program in your address.” He licked again before pressing the pad of his thumb to Timmy’s hole, drawing tiny circles. “Your phone number too if you don’t mind.”

On the one hand, of course he didn’t mind. He was fucking ecstatic. On the other, he wasn’t sure he actually possessed the coordination to tap the right keys right now. On the third, “You’re really going to have lace panties sent to my home?”

He had roommates, for God’s sake.

Armie’s thumb pressed forward, just barely a breach, but it made Timmy’s toes curl. “Would you rather I have them sent here?”

Timmy fumbled for the phone, and the moment he had it firmly in hand, Armie’s thumb was there to unlock it. The same thumb that had just been in his ass. _Jesus._

And then Armie’s hands were on Timmy’s hips, holding him still for the plundering, the stubble on his chin chafing Timmy’s balls and perineum, making his skin buzz, his fingers feel thick and clumsy. But he struggled through, growling every time he had to hit backspace, which was a lot, his body struggling against Armie’s grip despite his best efforts to stay still. It was hard to type when your body was doing its best to become a frog on a hotplate.

Finally, he was done, and he slammed the phone to the counter, a full body cringe taking hold at the sound, but Armie didn’t pause, and the phone didn’t feel cracked under Timmy’s fingers, so he relaxed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head to his forearm. “Shit.”

He could see his own cock from there, peeking out from between the tails of his shirt, Armie’s fingertips on either side but nowhere close by. His own fingers clenched around the phone still on the counter. He wanted to grab on and put his cocktail shaking skills to vigorous work, but he wanted Armie to do it more. He remembered those giant hands wrapping around him like he was nothing. It made him feel small, which might not seem like the best thing, but when so much of him was being touched at once--and so expertly and enthusiastically--that seemed like the opposite of a problem.

So, instead, he whined. “Please.”

“What is it that you want?” Armie slipped a slick digit into Timmy, teasing just inside. “You want my cock?”

Not what he was asking for, but, “Fuck. Yes.”

He braced his palms against the counter, pushing himself against Armie’s hand, willing the finger deeper, willing it against his prostate. And Armie acquiesced, rubbing in circles as he used his other hand to brace himself against Timmy’s hip. He stood, never losing rhythm on Timmy’s prostate, but once he was at full height, he slipped free and reached into his jacket pocket.

“You brought lube?”

Armie squeezed a bit on his fingers and slicked up the skin between Timmy’s buttocks. “Some things are better in fantasy, but if you want a dry fuck when you’re already sore, I’ll give it to you.”

Timmy shook his head, though his cock still throbbed at the idea. “Slick is good.”

“Good.” Armie tossed the bottle aside, bracing his dry hand against Timmy’s shoulder as he used his other to guide his cock, holding it there until his glans popped past the first sphincter, raising goosebumps on Timmy’s thighs and back. Then, he flattened his hand against Timmy’s lower abdomen, just above where he really wanted it, the side of his slick pinky grazing the base of Timmy’s cock. The rest of the slide felt simultaneously too slow and too fast, too much sensation and not enough, exquisite pressure filling him, and as soon as he felt Armie graze his prostate, he hunched his back. It was almost an involuntary movement, his body seeking more pressure, more pleasure without any input from his higher functions.

Armie’s groin settled fully against Timmy’s ass, the metal of Armie’s belt grazing his thighs, the teeth of his zipper ticking Timmy’s buttocks. He wrapped both arms around Timmy’s torso, held them tight together, guided Timmy’s head to rest against his shoulder.

He kissed the lobe of Timmy’s ear. “Ready?”

Timmy nodded.

Armie grinned, his canines predatory. “Words.”

“Yes,” Timmy huffed, and Armie pulled back and slammed home. It was slow and torturous, forcing sounds from Timmy’s mouth that he should be afraid that people could hear. Armie’s teeth dug into his neck. He sucked hard enough to turn the skin beet red, more marks that Timmy would be unable to hide. And before he knew it, they were fucking hard and fast, Timmy clinging to Armie, digging his fingernails into Armie’s nape, the skin at his wrists, just to keep himself from being tossed around like a ragdoll. 

He could feel the pressure building to fever pitch, his toes curling painfully in his shoes, his thighs burning, his breath fast and reedy, enough to make him hyperventilate, make him lightheaded and floaty. It would take barely anything to push him over the edge. Just the graze of a finger over the head of his cock would probably do it, but he couldn’t muster the words to truly ask for it. All that came out were various incomplete versions of the words _Please_ and _Yes_ and _Fuck_.

And then Armie stilled, his fingers in a punishing grip on Timmy’s hips, holding him as close as physically possible, murmuring in his ear, though the words didn’t start to register until Armie’s grip loosened, until the words lost their urgent timbre, until they caressed instead of struck.

“God, you’re so good, baby. Gorgeous. Fucking beautiful how you take it.” He stroked his nose over the back of Timmy’s ear, breathing deep, making Timmy shiver. “I could live in that mouth. Did you like having me in your mouth?”

Timmy nodded, licked his lips, before slurring, “Yes.”

“Would you like it if I held you down and fucked it?”

Timmy’s legs nearly gave out, but Armie kept him close, his hips rocking, dragging his softening cock against Timmy’s sensitized insides. God, he wanted to come.

Armie hummed against Timmy’s neck, breathed out with a gruff sigh. “Yeah.”

They held still for a moment, and although Timmy still desperately wanted to come, he was enjoying the moment to bask in the feeling of Armie’s cock going limp inside him, of his come dribbling out. He felt dirty, used, and so relaxed.

And then Armie eased himself out, pressed his palm to Timmy’s cock, but it was only to arrange him back in his underwear and trousers.

Timmy gaped at himself in the mirror as Armie tucked in Timmy’s shirt, zipped him up and re-did his belt, and then he gaped at Armie as Armie did the same thing to himself.

Armie spun him around, grabbed him by the chin, and kissed him before sweeping his phone off the counter. He slipped it in his jacket pocket. “I’ll call you when I’m done with work.”

Timmy squeaked in protest as Armie winked and walked over to unlock the door.

When the door opened and Armie stepped into the hall, Timmy’s brain finally caught up. Not fully, but enough to panic and shout, “Head over heels. Head over heels!”

Armie caught the door and peered back in. His brows furrowed. “Are you being sincere?”

Timmy paused, chewed his lip. He did want to come. Bad. And it had been an unpleasant surprise when Armie arranged him back into his clothes, but in the end, would he rather have a quick orgasm now or anticipate a better one for the next few to several hours?

He huffed. “I can wait.”

Armie smiled. Winked. “Good boy.”

And Timmy tingled.

He leaned against the sink and thought about cleaning out the drain under the bar sink until his erection flagged enough to go incognito, and then he tied his hair back up and returned to the bar.

Armie and his friend were gone, but Esther was still behind the bar. And she was staring at him.

He slid back in behind the bar and washed his hands. “What?”

“You know what.”

Timmy stared at the soap on his hands as it sudsed up. “Do I?”

She elbowed him before walking to the other side of the bar. “I’m glad you finally hooked up with your dream man, but I’m not doing that for you all the time.”

Timmy tucked his chin to his chest to hide the raging flush on his cheeks. “Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks once again to shamelessmash for betaing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I know I don't respond to comments, but I cherish them so much.


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